


I Miss You When I Can't Sleep

by orphan_account



Category: RWBY
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Crying During Sex, Emotional Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 18:15:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10927338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Qrow gets emotionally overwhelmed during sex.





	I Miss You When I Can't Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Guess what song got stuck in my head, along with this idea, and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it out? 
> 
>  
> 
> This is unbeta'd.

There is a knock on the door. Three raps of knuckles, almost too soft to hear. It was Ozpin, or Glynda, coming to check up on him. Qrow knows he was unhinged during the debriefing. It wouldn’t take an expert sleuth to gather that something was wrong, what with the emotional outbursts being more spontaneous and frantic than usual. More upset than anger. He rubs his hands over his face, leaning back into the couch, and willing them to leave him be. He closes his eyes listening to the _tick, tock_ of the clock, and the _drip drip drip_ of the loose facet in the kitchenette. Another knock makes him sigh, fiery glare fixing his face as he opens his eyes. Qrow’s words die in his throat, and his stomach drops out when James greets him.

“Hey,” James’ voice is unbearably quiet, gentle, concerned, it makes his stomach clench with longing. There’s no way to stop his mind from salvaging memories he had carefully buried. The feeling of James’ arms wrapped around him tight and warm, the heat between their kisses, the reverent way he would moan Qrow’s name when he would fuck into him. It’s overwhelming, making his eyes sting with unshed tears, and he wrenches them back. His mind snaps back into focus when James suddenly clears his throat. His voice is more firm, but the concern is still there when he continues speaking. “I came to check on you. You seemed..”

“Crazy.” Qrow’s typical sarcastic mask slips into place effortlessly, he begins to close the door on James, but is stopped by a hand on the frame.

“Upset. Let me in, I just wanna help. I’m worried about you, Qrow.” Qrow begrudgingly lets James push the door open all the way to enter. He becomes suddenly aware of what a mess he looks; open shirt and pants, ransacked hair, bloodshot eyes. Tension sews up the line of his back when James steps close behind him, hovering near enough for Qrow to feel the warmth flowing from his person. “ You haven’t talked to me in weeks. Or Ozpin. Or Glynda.” The names are rushed out after a pause, but Qrow doesn’t pay attention to it, too busy fighting the urge to lean back against what he knows will be a broad, strong chest. James is silent behind him, taking in the junk littered about the room, the blankets haphazardly thrown over the couch, the empty bottle filling the coffee table. Qrow’s eyes flick to the unopened bottle he had grabbed for tonight, and anger flares at the thought of James judging him.

“Communication’s a two way street, you know. Have any of you tried talking to me?” Qrow turns to glare at James, taking pride in the awkward hand rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

“No. I guess we haven’t, but I’m here now.” Qrow’s chuckle is coated in sarcasm as he looks to the new bottle of whiskey on the table. James’ gaze follows his, desperate for something to change the subject. Surprise shows in his voice when he speaks. “Not drinking tonight?”

“Convinced myself not to. Might change that now that you’re here.” Cold metal wrapping around his wrist stops him when he goes to grab the bottle of amber liquid. Tired eyes bore into the contact, face pinching in discomfort as his brain tells him to just let go, to fall into cozy arms, that it will be the last time. His skin feels super heated as James trails his cool touch along his smooth forearm, then back down tracing the lines of his hand and fingers. Qrow sighs in contentment despite himself. “Why are you here, Jimmy?” The pet name slips out, missing it’s usual mocking tone. It’s murmured into the air on an exhale, as if Qrow can’t stop himself. James tugs gingerly on his arm until Qrow moves with the motion, curling into his chest, and hating himself while he does. He tucks his head into James’ throat so he doesn’t have to look at him, hands sliding around his waist, and clasping in the fabric of his jacket. Big hands runs along his back, slipping under his shirt to squeeze and massage his tension away. A pleased sound hums out of Qrow.

“I wanted to offer some comfort to you.” Qrow’s anger at himself grows when he doesn’t push James away, instead pulls him closer with please on the tip of his tongue. James left hand drags up the curve of his back to twist into his hair, threading into the thick, black tresses to drag Qrow’s head back.

“Are you sure about that, General?” The bitterness is a last ditch effort to make James leave, because Qrow’s not strong enough to pull himself away. The hand in his hair tightens, and James tilts his head so he can brush lip to lips tauntingly, until Qrow lets his mouth fall open on a whine. It’s too easy to let James crush their mouths together, muffling Qrow’s sweet moans to plunge his tongue in savagely, probing as if this was the first time, as if he didn’t know just how to kiss him, as if he wasn’t too good at making Qrow melt in his hold. They pull back only when they’re desperate for breath, and even then it’s not far; they stay intoxicatingly near, gasping into each other’s lips because they’re greedy for the intimate closeness. Qrow’s hands come up to cup James’ jaw, roping him into short, hurried bursts of pressure that are more panting sloppily with lips against lips than kisses, and James’ digs his hand in on either side of Qrow’s lower back, causing his spin to arc so they stay crowded together. Qrow groans into their kisses when their erections slot against each other, making pleasure skate up his spine like electricity, and then back down to settle with the simmering molten pleasure in his gut. The heady feeling makes desperation zip through him like a shock. Hands paw at ties and buttons and belts as Qrow walks them backwards toward the open bedroom door. He’s gotten James’ shirt and jacket off him by the time he falls back onto the mattress. James’ scoops his legs over his left arm to press his knees to his chest when he crawls over Qrow to kiss him again before trailing down to nibble his collar bone. Qrow’s stomach muscles clench to keep his legs up when James’ hold changes, his hand sliding down to prod in the cleft of his ass. He crosses his ankles, hooking them over James shoulder to give him more room, sighing out as fingers rub gently at his entrance and teeth worry the skin of his neck.

“Lube?” The question is rumbled into his skin.

“Duffle.” James leaves him with a ginger kiss to the bruise he had just made, and Qrow slings an arm over his eyes as he waits, listening to James rustle around in the other room. The reprieve from the heady trance of arousal, lets him think clearly for a moment. He know he needs to stop this, that it won’t make him feel better, but he can’t. He’s addicted to it now, the strange, inexplicable intimacy of sex with James. Qrow doesn’t understand why it’s so potent, why he needs this, but he does all the same. It’s so much work to be angry at the fact that this man can make him so weak with just one touch. He jerks when the fingers come back cold, pressing and rubbing insistently. James kisses an apology and a playful smile into his knee, spreading Qrow’s legs wide with his free hand to press his index finger in deep. His bites along the inside of Qrow’s thighs are sufficiently distracting as James quickly wiggles in a second finger. A hiss escapes him at the ginger burn, but he’s doesn’t miss a beat in pushing back onto the fingers thrusting into him. James continues stretch him open throughly, working in deep to massage his prostate, adding copious amounts of lube with the third finger. Time stretches with him as James’ teases him with fleeting rubs and full thrusts. Qrow gets fed up, and props himself up on his arms to scowl down between his thighs, shivering when James presses against him just right.

“Hey,” Qrow cuts himself off with a moan before reaching down to pull James’ fingers out of his ass. It’s easy to lure James up for a kiss, tugging lightly on the caught wrist. “Lay down for me.” Qrow presses resolutely on his shoulders until he gets James to lay supine on the mattress. He shifts down the bed, hooking his hands in James’ splayed open fly and the boxer briefs underneath to pull them down in one fell swoop. He barely struggles with the laces on James’ boots, then crawls carefully back up his body with one hand outstretched for the lube. The plastic tube pressed excitedly into his palm makes him smirk. He squeezes a dollop of way too much lube in his hand, stroking it over James’ dick evenly before moving to hover over his hips. He reaches one hand between his legs to line up the bell-end with his hole before sinking down.

Qrow pants into the open air as he seats himself fully on James’ dick. The combined feeling of cool metal brushing his prostate and fullness pressing along his walls makes his thighs tremble. James’ bucks up into him, impatience showing, and Qrow groans, head tilting to look at the man below him. His burning hatred of the man below him, of his feelings for the man below him flares up again. He leans forward slightly, bracing his weight on his arms, hands dipping the bed on either side of James’ head. His thighs clench with pleasure when he grinds himself onto James’ dick, then he lifts his hips high and thrusts them back down hard. His pace is firm and rhythmic in a way that has him bouncing almost frantically on James’ dick. A moan rumbles its way through James chest, up his throat, past his lips into the air, and Qrow shifts himself onto one elbow, not stopping the motion of his hips. He’s close enough that with every push of his hips their chests and their lips brush. They don’t kiss, simply paint hot breaths over each other’s faces as Qrow rides him. His blood boils over with pleasure, and he starts to lose himself in the thick, inebriating blanket of heat surrounding them, words flow out of his lips without thought. Under the slick squelch of their coupling, he’s repeatedly rasping out the words.

_I hate you. I hate you. I hate you._

Qrow’s free hand grips James’ jaw as he continues this mantra, forcing eye contact as he says it, interrupted occasionally by moans of pleasure. He pulls back so their lips aren’t brushing anymore, and he can stare down at James’ face, open with pleasure. His finger drifts up, along the shell of his ear, soft enough to make him shudder under Qrow. The finger continues its wandering path across one thick brow, to smooth down the bridge of his nose. The tip is tapped before the finger moves on to arc with his cheek bone, then curve down to the corner of his mouth. Blue eyes flick to Qrow’s face as James feels the finger trail around his lips, watching when Qrow chews his lips in pleasure, or concentration, or both. Their gazes meet, and the motion of his hips stutters. He’s sees something that he doesn’t let himself hope for in the depths of those eyes, and it’s beyond overwhelming. His hips choke to an intoxicatingly slow roll that has James moaning Qrow’s name in a way that makes something inside him just break. One of James’ hands comes up to grab his face to tug him down and mesh their lips together. It’s an entirely different beast than the kisses they had shared up until now. It’s tender and heated and passionate; intense in a way that flurried, desperate kisses can’t compare to. They come apart when Qrow starts uncontrollably hiccupping gasps into the kiss. James’ brings his other hand from where it was rubbing along Qrow’s knee to brush his cheek, and Qrow realizes that he’s crying. He’s sobbing, and he can’t stop. He keeps moving his hips in that infuriatingly heavy pace, but his words change.

_I want you, I want you, I hate that I want you._

James digs his fingers in further, using his grip to start moving with Qrow, not changing the pace just putting more force behind the grinds. The twisting heat in their guts builds with more fervor as they meet each other fluidly in every motion. Qrow adjusts himself to lean their forehead together, fat tears tumble down in drops onto James’s cheeks. A thrust brushes particularly well against his prostate, and he curses his eyes flying open. He is startled by the sight of compelling blue eyes. James is just staring at him. His pleasure spikes as he sees that same nameless, oppressive emotion still swirling in those eyes. Qrow gets overwhelmed suddenly with the culmination of his feelings and the pleasure and the look in James’ eyes. and the words change again.

_I hate you, I love you, I hate that I love you._

He can’t shut his mouth. He keeps babbling the sentences as he keeps moving harmoniously with James. A hand wraps around the back of Qrow’s neck, pulling him into another intense kiss, and the pressure snaps. Orgasm washes over him like a wave crashing and breaking over rocks, cum spilling in hard pulses onto James chest. His thighs shake and jerk with pleasure, and a sobbing moan spills out. He is vaguely aware of James tensing under him before he passes out fully from the severity of his orgasm.

<<<>>>

When Qrow wakes in the morning to a cooling space instead of a warm body and a familiar ache in his lower back, he resents the sting of hurt in his chest. He should be used to this. No one has ever stayed after I love you, and he should stop expecting them to.

**Author's Note:**

> The song I refer to is 'i hate u, i love u' by gnash feat. Olivia O'Brien.
> 
> Leave a comment below if you find a mistake, or like the work, or if you just want to. <3


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